


Nobody of Importance

by Janieohio



Series: Quidditch League Oneshots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Self-Acceptance, The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Waiters & Waitresses, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/pseuds/Janieohio
Summary: Hannah Abbot, ex-Hufflepuff, the girl who cries before her Herbology O.W.L., Susan Bones' friend, and now a barmaid. You know, Hannah Abbott—nobody of importance, really—just the girl everyone knows but nobodyreallyknows... except maybe one. Not everyone is born to change the world.
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom
Series: Quidditch League Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691950
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	Nobody of Importance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the second round of the Quidditch League fanfiction competition. This story is canon compliant through the epilogue. See the endnotes for the prompts/theme used from the competition.

Hannah Abbott stood in the empty flat above the Leaky Cauldron. She checked the bathroom and nodded in approval at the small shower, toilet, and sink. She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror, adjusting her mousy brown hair back into a ponytail and shrugging as she examined the blouse that fell over her slightly plump frame. Returning to the main room, she sat on her new bed and glanced at the kitchenette and small sitting area on the other side of the room. It wasn't fancy, but then, neither was she. It would work for her.

She'd never needed much. She'd never expected much, either, and nothing much had ever really been expected of her.

She'd always been the quiet girl in school, not really popular, not particularly intelligent, not a great beauty. She didn't stand out in anything in particular, except in that one class that no one really cared about but her. After all, it wasn't like you could create a wizarding career out of Astronomy unless you were also a genius at Arithmancy or gifted in Divination, even if you loved it. Still, she passed most of her other classes with A's and E's and didn't really draw attention to herself. She usually preferred it that way.

She spent much of her time at Hogwarts quietly slipping away to the Astronomy tower for solitude and to watch the stars. When she did participate with the other students—like when she joined Dumbledore's Army in her fifth year of Hogwarts—it was mostly because her best friend, Susan Bones, said she should, and because she was scared. Even in the DA, she didn't excel, but she did well enough. Well enough to defend herself and help the wounded at the Battle of Hogwarts two years later, at least. She'd always been proud of that.

And when they handed out _Order of Merlins, Third Class_ to all the Hogwarts defenders after the war, she'd gone up and received hers with everyone else. She was one of one hundred thirty-eight people who received one that day. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of it, but it just wasn't that important, was it? It was the proverbial, "if everyone's special, no one is."

So, here she was, three years later, starting a new job at the Leaky Cauldron. She was going to be a barmaid, serve drinks and food, live on the premises in case any of the guests needed anything overnight, and earn a modest income. She had no dreams of a grand life. She wanted a place of her own, to make her own way, and maybe someday have a family. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

She stood up and began unpacking her things from her old Hogwarts trunk. On top lay her prized possession, a large framed reproduction of the Muggle painting, _The Starry Night_. When she was upset, or afraid, or stressed, she could lose herself in the swirls and colours of the art and decompress. It always made her feel better, reminding her of the enormity of the universe.

She used her wand and cast a quick spell to stick it to the wall opposite her bed. She wanted to be able to see it before she went to sleep each night. Standing back, she gave a curt nod, pleased at its presence, then set to work.

* * *

"Hannah! Another pint, love?"

Hannah looked up across the room at the shout and sighed. People were rude, but she pasted a smile on her face and nodded to the rowdy group that'd come in every Friday night since she'd started there two years before. The three people at the booth where she currently stood gave her an understanding smile. "I'm sorry about that," she continued. "So two spiced beef sandwiches and one fish and chips. Anyone need another drink for now?"

"No, thank you, Hannah." Hannah smiled at the Healers gathered around the table, having come for a meal and some company after their shift at St Mungo's. "We're just pleased to have a good sit down for the moment. We're fine here."

She nodded gratefully, always pleased when the patrons were friendly, then headed to the bar. As she passed the order back to the kitchen and began to work on filling the drinks for the rambunctious group in the corner, she felt a little flare of jealousy. _It must be nice to work a long day helping people, then have someone to take care of you for the evening. It must be nice to have a job that means something._

She sighed and scolded herself. _Hannah, that's stupid talk. You love your job._ And she _did_ love her job. At least, most of the time.

Picking up the tray, she began circling the floor to deposit drinks and exchange smiles and jokes with random people as she went—some she knew well, like Neville Longbottom who always greeted her in his Auror trainee robes with a tired smile, and some she only recognised as occasional patrons but who were friendly faces all the same.

But later that night, as she prepared for bed, she took some time to stare at her painting and calm herself. The universe was huge, and she was no smaller in the scheme of it all than anyone else.

* * *

"Hannah!" The table erupted in cheers as she approached. "Our favourite person!"

She rolled her eyes at the group of her old schoolmates who'd come in regularly over the last six years she'd worked there, and grinned. "Hi, everyone." She glanced at the tall red-head in the corner who'd spoken. "And Ron Weasley, I'm only your favourite person because I bring you food and drinks."

The group laughed and good-humouredly teased their friend in agreement.

"The usual tonight, everyone? It's going to be busy, so you'll want to get your order in now." She glanced at the group of mostly ex-Gryffindors that included the famous Harry Potter, then reminded herself that Luna Lovegood there had been in Ravenclaw, and she wasn't sure about Luna's boyfriend.

Neville Longbottom was still in his Auror attire, no longer a simple trainee, and caught her eye as he gave her his familiar gentle smile. He leaned over close to her, speaking quietly. "Hermione said to ask you to cut Ron off after three, if you don't mind. They have to go to his parents' in the morning, and she wants him functional."

Hannah laughed and made the mental note, then chatted with the others for a moment. They were an elite bunch, and the fact that they were so friendly with her always surprised her—especially Neville, who went out of his way to be kind. She wasn't _special_ like they were. She was just Hannah. She certainly wasn't a famous Auror, and she hadn't fought at the Department of Mysteries or played a major part in the Battle of Hogwarts, even if she'd been there. She'd mostly just cared for the wounded and made sure people had food when they needed it. But she enjoyed the banter and headed back to the kitchen, stopping at several tables along the way.

That night, while removing her shoes and attempting to soak her tired feet, she glanced at her painting and wished for something _more_. Not necessarily to _be_ something more, but to _have_ something more.

* * *

"Hannah, darling, why don't you come over here and sit on my lap and give me a little love?"

Hannah rolled her eyes and took a good step back from the table in the middle of the nearly empty pub. _Nine years_ she'd been doing this job, and she'd never get used to the feeling of some disgusting wizard trying to grab at her.

Still, she was adept at avoiding a bad situation and gave the man a stern look, turning to his friends. "I'll have to ask you all to leave if you can't help Mr Anders keep his hands to himself."

"Aww, Hannah, he was just playing around, like always," the man sitting next to him whined. "You know he didn't mean anything by it. Come on, Dave. Keep it to yourself."

Hannah scowled and stepped back to the safety of the bar.

"Hannah, does that happen often?" a soft voice came from across the counter.

"Neville? When did you get here? It's not your night." Neville was a regular on Monday evenings to eat at the bar, and he often came in with friends on the weekend, but it was a Wednesday.

He shrugged. "So does it? Happen often? I can talk to him. Anders _knows_ me," he said with emphasis. "He'll back off."

She scowled. "Neville Longbottom, that's sweet of you, but I can take care of myself. Now, as it's not Monday, I don't know what you'd like. Are you having dinner or just a pint?"

He matched her scowl, then sighed. "A pint, I guess. I really just came to tell you about something."

"Me? Why me?"

He smiled bemusedly, seeming surprised at the question. "Well, because you're my friend, right?"

She was baffled. Neville considered her a friend? _Her?_

"Um, okay." She started pulling his pint as she talked. "So, what did you want to tell me about?"

"Have you heard Professor Sprout is retiring?"

She smiled and passed the glass across the bar. "I did. I'm so happy for her. I visit with her regularly. When my mum died, she really helped me, and I've never forgotten."

He nodded in understanding. "She'd said as much, actually. She's a great lady and talked about you when I was there. Anyway, McGonagall has offered me the job on Professor Sprout's recommendation."

"Oh, Neville! That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you," Hannah gushed because she really _was_ happy for him. She knew how much he loved Herbology, and he'd work so hard to finish his Mastery while still working full-time as an Auror. He'd told her before he wanted to find something else but that nothing felt right.

He blushed and looked down at his drink. "Yes, well, I just came from Hogwarts and decided to stop here and tell you first."

Her draw jobbed slightly. "First? Why me?"

His blush deepened, but he met her eye. "Why _not_ you?"

"Well, I mean, I'm not important or anything. Don't you want to run off and tell all your friends and your grandmother?"

He looked irritated, but she wasn't sure why. She was so confused. "Hannah, you _are_ important. And I'll tell my other friends and Gran later, yes, but do you think I come here every Monday just because you have the best bangers and mash?"

She only felt more confused, and just stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Hannah," he said as he looked her in the eye seriously, "I come on Mondays because it's your slow night and you can spend time and talk with me. I come to visit _you_. I enjoy your company, and I like you."

"Hannah!" She turned as the food for a table appeared behind her from the kitchen. She glanced at Neville, then grabbed the food and without saying a word—because, honestly, what could she say to that?—she left the bar.

Over the next few minutes, more people needed her attention, so she took orders, poured drinks, and did her job. When she finally got back to the bar, Neville had left. She was upset, yet relieved. And confused. _Merlin,_ she was confused.

That night, she sat braiding her long honey brown hair after her shower and stared at her painting. It pulled her in and soothed her confusion. She looked at the church and the town under the swirling stars and wondered about the people living there, and what they might have been thinking. Were they important? Probably to each other—to their families and friends. She laid back thinking about Neville and what it meant that he thought her important.

* * *

"Hannah?"

"Hmm?" Hannah looked up from the fancy menu in panic and gave Neville a shaky smile.

Neville looked confused, then shooed the hovering waiter away. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she'd embarrass herself by crying.

"Hannah, we don't have to eat here if you don't like it. I messed up, didn't I?" He was sounding nervous and speaking faster the longer she stayed quiet. "I was trying to impress you and instead I just made a fool of myself, and now I've upset you. I'm so sorry, I—"

"Neville!" she finally managed to get out, the urge to reassure him finally outweighing her own discomfort. "You didn't mess up. This is lovely and I'm sure it's perfect. I just—" she leaned forward to whisper "—can't read the menu. Is this French? I thought I'd embarrass you and you'd be upset with me, but I didn't know how to tell you."

She gave a nervous laugh, and a huge smile crossed Neville's face. "Is that all? I didn't mess it up?" His smile grew when she shook her head. He met her eyes and offered hesitantly, "I could sit beside you and read it to you, if you like."

She nodded shyly, and he moved his chair beside hers. His shoulder brushed hers as she listened to his low voice first explain the menu, then later describe his first semester as a Hogwarts professor.

When she got home from their date, and she laid on her bed staring at her painting in the moonlight, she couldn't remember anything she'd eaten that evening, but she could clearly remember the feel of Neville's arm against her, and the look in his eyes as she told him about her childhood. She studied the stars and saw how alike they were to one another, despite their varying sizes and colours, and she felt comfort.

* * *

"Hannah?"

Neville stood behind her, and Hannah laid her head back onto his shoulder, looking out at the night sky. The Astronomy Tower had always been her favourite place in Hogwarts. Even after Dumbledore's death, she loved that tower. It'd been damaged in the final battle, but now, fifteen years later, it had been long repaired and was still the location of daily classes and nightly teenaged snogging sessions.

Except for tonight. There was no one up there but them.

Neville pulled her long hair behind her shoulder and gave it a light kiss. "Hannah, love, what are you thinking?"

She sighed contentedly. "I was thinking about the stars and all the people under them. I was thinking about my painting, and how sometimes I wonder if the man who painted it would understand what kind of impact he'd have on the life of a lowly barmaid in England someday. I was thinking about how I love being up here in the quiet, with you."

Neville turned her around and leaned down to kiss her gently. "I'm glad you're here, with me." He paused and took a deep breath. "Hannah, I know you've always thought you weren't important, that you didn't change things around you, but I want you to know that you do. You always have. You bring a smile to those who've worked a long day. You remind old friends of the beauty of their childhood. You even teach lecherous old men to mind their own business. You make a difference, even if it's not something that can be seen from miles away."

She put her arms around him and gave a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Neville, but—"

"I'm not done, thank you." He grinned. "You're important to _me_ , Hannah. You've made a huge impact on my life. I might just be the Herbology Professor at a school, but you've made my life feel like something more."

He looked into her eyes and she smiled at the sincerity she saw. And then, _then,_ the impossible happened. He dropped to his knee in front of her.

"Hannah Rose Abbott, you are the most important person in my life. Will you please consent to be my wife?" Neville was holding a ring out in front of her, but all she could see was him.

"Oh, Merlin. Neville?"

He smiled, waiting, as she felt tears begin to drip down her face. Unable to speak, she nodded vehemently and smiled shakily through her tears. The look of happiness on his gentle face was the most memorable moment of her life.

That night, Hannah sat on her bed in The Leaky Cauldron and looked up from the ring on her finger to her painting. The swirling stars and yellow moon called out to her in their beauty. She stood and approached the canvas, feeling the raised edges of the paint. She looked at the small houses with lights in the windows and thought of the families that must have lived in that small town. So what if she didn't make a huge impact on the world around her? She made a good impact on the people she met, and that was what mattered. She was important.

**Author's Note:**

> Competition Information:  
> Word Count: 1000-3000  
> Theme: Write about a character who makes little impact on society or the world.  
> Prompts: [Object] Vincent Van Gogh's The Starry Night Painting, [Setting] Astronomy Tower


End file.
